


Number One Coward

by cairn



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Breaking Up & Making Up, Established Relationship, F/M, ShikaSaku Week 2019, Unresolved Arguments, read if you want my detailed thoughts on shikasaku under stress, whoops i sublimated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 11:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cairn/pseuds/cairn
Summary: "How do you spend so much time sleeping?"He had felt her lace her arm through his, toying with his hand between the two of her hands. She had traced his radial nerve from his forearm to his wrist to his thumb joint."I don't think I could ever sleep that much," she had said. "I don’t know if I'd want to."[ShikaSaku week 2019/ Day 1/daylight so violent]





	Number One Coward

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes a while to get going, but I encourage you to stick it out. Please enjoy.
> 
>   

> 
> _"The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else."_
> 
> _\- Umberto Eco_  


"It's so peaceful here," Sakura said. 

"Mm." 

[They had been somewhere outside of the Nara family grounds, somewhere in the forest. He hadn't remembered where, exactly. Green, sticking to the backs of his eyelids even as he tried to nap. Green grasses rising to her knees as they waded through it. She had followed a narrow path, a deer trail, and then they were on one of the many outcrops of the forest, overlooking hills, rocks, trees. The hills around them rose like the countryside had taken in deep breaths, raising up the ground, and had never let those breaths go.]

"I can't believe you really grew up here."

"Yeah." He had opened left eye, barely, to see her seated next to him, blurry because he had had his eyes closed for so long. Her hair had been so beautiful against all the green, pink and floating in the wind. All else was just green for miles and miles and miles and miles.

"Are you falling asleep?" She had leaned over so she was directly above him, her face so close to his. "Shikamaru," she had said laughingly.

"I'm awake," he had responded.

"Don't keep falling asleep on me." She had stuck her mouth directly on the inch of skin between the opening of his jonin vest collar and blown a raspberry and he had turned quickly away, unable to stop the laugh from escaping him. She had laughed, too.

She'd pulled away, poked him in the chest, a small smile spreading across her face. "You, Nara Shikamaru, didn't smoke today. I can tell."

"Just for you," he had said, deadpan, closing his eyes again, only to have her poke at him again.

"Come on," she had said, "How can you get tired of looking at all of this?"

"You just said it was peaceful." He had raised himself to a somewhat seated position, slouched over. "I'm being peaceful."

"Oh, sure." She had sidled up next to him, rested her cheek against his shoulder. "You just brought me up here to nap."

"You led me up here, actually." 

The view had been shades of green and brown and grey, like waves of forest. He hadn't been able to see the clan houses, anymore, but there were no deer visible, either. Like it had been just them, and just them for miles.

"How do you spend so much time sleeping?" 

He had felt her lace her arm through his, toying with his hand between the two of her hands. She traced his radial nerve from his forearm to his wrist to his thumb joint.

"I don't think I could ever sleep that much," she had said. "I don’t know if I'd want to."

"Mm." He had watched her interlace her fingers with his. "I don't know if I've ever seen you nap."

"I don't like to. There's a lot going on in the village - a lot of stuff I should contribute to, you know?"

"Sure." He had avoided the thought. Avoided the press of duty. [Tsunade had been pressuring him, recently. Clan meetings. Advisory meetings. "Give me your advice, Nara."]

"But, I mean, I _guess_ I could just hang out with you for a little bit," she had said, pressing her torso flush against his. "Hm?"

"Yeah." He'd turned, then, to see her leaning closer, and pressed his lips on hers, slipping his hand in her hair. He'd pulled her closer so that her forehead rested against his collarbone. "You do think too much about work," he had said into her hair.

She had snorted. "Yeah, yeah. It's what I get, being Shishou's apprentice."

"Don't think too hard about it," he had said, pulling away from her. "Don't think about it."

She had quirked her lips at him. "Ugh. I need to."

"Not right now," he had said, pressing his lips into her neck and working downwards. "Not this second."

She had laughed, breathy this time. "Okay, okay, okay. You convinced me. Not this second."

[He'd awoken, later, to her shaking him. "Come on, Shikamaru, now I really do have to go." He'd led her out of the forest and she'd grinned and slipped away, to the hospital or to the Hokage's office, like so many times before.]

She'd been on a mission. Choji had come around and found him laying on a hill in the Nara forest.

[Sometime later in the month. Team Seven, the remnants of it, were gone on some high-profile A-Rank. Sometimes Shikamaru thought Tsunade just sent them out to prove to the rest of the world that Konoha still had powerful ninja. Some kind of political game, with Sakura as a chess piece.] 

"Sakura's on a mission, huh," Choji had said.

"Mm." Shikamaru had had his arm over his face so his elbow was covering his eyes.

"Your mom said you've been 'bumming around.'"

"When does she not say that," he said flatly.

Choji had begun to eat beside him, as usual. "Want any?"

He could smell the barbeque flavoring. "No."

"You're moping," Choji had observed.

He hadn't responded. Choji had crunched away for a few minutes more. 

"We could play shogi." 

Shikamaru had recognized this as a generous offer. Choji was not good at shogi and didn't care to lose in so few turns. "Yeah. I don't want to move, though."

"Mm." Choji had put down the chip packet; he could hear it, crunching on the grass. "You're worried."

"No." The emotion in his chest hadn't quite been fear. Or maybe it had been. Fear manifested itself differently at different times. Anger. Tears. Pain. Shaking hands. Or a deadening to the world.

"You really like her, huh."

He hadn't responded.

Choji had snorted. "She's going to be fine. She could knock you out like a light."

"I don't need your reassurance, Choji." He had finally removed his arm from his face to see Choji's eyebrows raise disbelievingly. 

"Uh huh," Choji had said.

"She's fine." He had sat up. Somehow, saying the words hadn't lifted the weight on his sternum.

"Besides, Naruto, Kakashi - you know Naruto would never let anything happen to her." Choji pulled out another bag of snacks, this time shrimp-flavored chips. He had torn it open and inspected one contemplatively before continuing. "She killed Sasori."

"I am not worrying about her," he had said. The itch in his fingers was back. The longing. Cigarettes. He didn’t have a pack on him. Something about stimulus and response that Sakura had been nagging him about - don't even have the stimulus around. No more smoking. Operant conditioning.

"Okay." Choji had kept eating. 

The forest around them flickered with life. A squirrel, yards above them, chirruped with another that was hidden in the leaves. The wind ran through his hair, rustled Choji's clothing. 

"We can watch the clouds," Choji had said.

Shikamaru had closed his eyes. [Twelve years old. Chips. The sky above them like a possibility waiting to be realized.] "Sure."

Choji had leant back. Shikamaru settled with his head on his bent arm. The sky was blue, the clouds only visible in pieces through the thick branches above them. The white clouds, drifting slowly by. He had closed his eyes. Sometimes sleep was relief. It was something he didn’t think Sakura understood.

"I don't know," she had said, looking at the shogi board. 

[She'd come over after her mission, that next week. It had gone fine, she had said, but she hadn't really thought that, given the way she had held herself.]

"It's a game, Sakura," he had said. "It's meant to be fun."

"I like to win, though," she had said, and the little smile that briefly flickered on her lips when she looked at him, teasing, had lifted one to his. 

"Then beat me." He had settled before the board, laid out the pieces. "I'll give myself a handicap."

He was halfway through laying his pieces after he'd laid out hers before she had finally sat down as well. "Okay. One game. Then I should… do something."

"Relaxing is good, you know." He glanced at her. 

She had pursed her lips. "I didn't do enough - on the mission. I need to work harder."

"You do work hard." He'd laid the final piece down with the click of wood on wood to see Sakura frown.

"Maybe." She had surveyed the pieces. "Who's going first?"

He'd gestured at the board. "Ladies first."

"You'll regret that, Nara." She had grinned at him and laid out her first move.

She was smart. Shikamaru had never doubted it, and she consistently proved it. While she'd never beat him, she thought everything through, got close enough that he had to at least think about his moves. He enjoyed it, mostly, playing with her - watching her consider the pieces, and the way she eyed him carefully as though his expression would give something away. 

Several minutes later, Sakura groaned. "Are you kidding me?" 

"Sorry," he had said, not entirely sorry. "You can see it, right? Two moves more til checkmate."

"Ugh." She had shot him a look. "When am I going to beat you?"

"I'll play with all pawns," he said, joking. Half of her mouth turned upwards but it hadn't reached her eyes, which still rested on the wooden tiles before them.

Shikamaru had waited, looking at the board with her. This had been something Choji had taught him. Sometimes you waited, and let the other person speak. Sakura had finally sighed. "Sorry. I think the mission just took it out of me, you know?"

"Yeah." He knew the feeling. The dead weight you carried after a mission - the bodies you left behind, the way it felt like you dragged them behind you.

"I just have to work hard, huh?" She had grinned at him, all determination.

"You do work hard."

"Not hard enough," she had said, smile slipping. He hadn't opened his mouth before she raised her hand. "And I don't need affirmation, Shikamaru. It's just the way it is."

He hadn't graced that with a response. Sakura worked hard enough. But this was the way it had always been, even when they were children. He remembered seeing her sit with their textbooks draped over her thighs, pre-genin years, studying and studying and studying. One hand in class always halfway up to answer Iruka's questions.

"I appreciate the distraction, though," she had added. The smile was more genuine this time. 

"Sure." 

"Even if I never win." She'd frowned at the table. "If I had more time, I'd research strategies."

"The rematch is always waiting," he had said.

"Yeah." She had nodded and then stood, stretching. "Okay. Gotta run."

"I'll walk you out." He'd stood as well. "I should probably… see Tsunade at some point."

"She's been wanting to see you for ages, you know," Sakura had said. "Keeps bothering me about it."

"Ugh." He had cracked his neck. "She doesn't give up."

"You shouldn't ignore her." Sakura had pursed her lips at him. 

"I know." He had done his best to avoid the sudden twist in his stomach. Responsibility. 

[When he'd finally shown up at Tsunade's office, the woman had yelled at him for a solid minute about certain clan heads never having the fucking time for her despite being asleep half the time. That it was time he took up his father's mantle. It was the Will of Fire, or something like that. Certain things just had to be done. Shikamaru knew the motivation behind his actions had never been his own personal drive, but the weight of someone else's duty, responsibility, that had been pushed upon him.]

"You can't work so late," he had told her.

"Of course I can," she had informed him. 

[Her back was to his. Her office in the hospital, late at night. She was doing something for the Hokage again. Something classified. He'd had access to the documents but he didn't want to know. It was easier not knowing what Sakura was really doing, sometimes, not to think about the danger, or the missing-nin, or the ways he'd lost so many others.]

He'd rested his shoulder on the doorway. "Take a nap or something, at least."

"I don't nap." She was writing something, but he was trying not to look at it. There was a bingo book in front of her, black and ominous, which he was also not thinking about.

He'd wrestled with the concern. ["I don't want you to stay up all night all the time."] She had been covering up the circles under her eyes with concealer, but it was still entirely clear she hadn't been sleeping well. She kept going to private meetings with Tsunade and showing up at his place, not willing to talk but just pacing around, in circles. ["You're going to wear a hole in my floor," he'd said, and she'd given him a glare that could have set concrete.] There was something in his stomach, twisting.

The bingo book meant she was being assigned some sort of assassination, most likely. Someone high-profile. Meetings with the Hokage meant it was someone very high-profile, probably a foreign ninja. Kiri or Kumo or… probably not Suna. Or maybe Suna. (Maybe this was why she hadn't been sleeping.) She would go in as a nurse, helping the Kazekage with his medical program, and then kill someone on the side. No one would think twice of the sweet Hokage's assistant, who would try to save the ninja's life and fail, or maybe in saving his life would kill him. Or maybe they would think twice.

"I know you're still there." She'd turned to look at him, and then sighed at his face. Something in his expression. "Stop worrying about me."

"What, I can't worry about my girlfriend?" he had asked, sharper than he intended. 

Sakura's mouth had set, frustrated. "I can take care of myself, Shikamaru."

He kept his mouth shut, and she heaved another sigh. 

"I know you're catastrophizing again. It's going to be fine." She had slipped hair behind her ear. It had been growing out, her hair, so that it brushed her shoulder blades.

"Ninjas are inherently meant to think of the worst case." 

"Well, snap out of it." She looked at him again. "I can worry about myself. You know I'm thorough. I have a mission and I'm going to do it well."

"I know." He had. 

"Then what's with the whole," she waved a hand at him in replacement of a verb. "Freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out." He had shifted from one foot to the other. "You've just been working yourself to the bone. Don't forget to sleep."

"Yeah, I won't." She shot him a wry smile. "Don't forget to be awake once in a while." 

"Mm." He hadn't been willing to leave. 

He'd stood there in silence for what felt like another five minutes until Sakura finally turned around in her swivel chair to look at him. Her features were dim in the half-light, mostly lit from behind by her lamp. "Kiss me goodnight?"

"When do you leave for the mission?" 

She had frowned. "Romantic, Nara."

He had folded his arms. "I'm just -"

"Concerned." Sakura had stood, walking over to him, her features softening as she came closer. She put her hands on either side of his face. "It's going to be fine. Stop being… like this."

"I don't know why you're upset that I care," he had said. Her grip on his face tightened fractionally.

"It stopped being cute a while ago," she had said, dropping her arms. "Okay? I'm a big, bad jonin who can fend for herself."

"It's not about that," he had said. 

"That's exactly what it's about," she had told him. "I have a mission and I leave on Saturday. I'm going to be fine. You can stop worrying."

He had forced himself not to say something in response.

"Okay?" She had turned to look him in the eyes again.

"Fine." 

She hadn't looked particularly appeased. "Good. Good night, then." 

"Night." He had leant forwards and pressed his lips against hers for a second. Her expression hadn't changed. "Get rest at some point."

"Mm." 

He had felt her gaze on his back as he walked down the corridor.

"How can you keep sleeping?" she had asked him sharply, pacing around in the hospital corridor. 

[Weeks later. Something about a mission. He wasn't thinking about it yet, though.]

He had cracked open an eye. There was something in his chest, some deep pain he was avoiding thinking about. Some horrible churn in his stomach. 

"Nara Shikamaru, Ino is in there getting worked on and I would like you to at least be awake with me!" Her voice was like a whiplash. He sat up. 

The hospital. White walls, blurry. Sakura had been a vision of pink and red, and there was a bandage tracing its way up her leg. She was pacing back and forth in front of the bench he was on, and he could tell that her bound-up wound was beginning to bleed again. 

[The mission. Sakura hadn't gone alone. Sakura and Ino. He'd found out a week later that it was an extended mission. Somewhere. Tsunade had redacted the documents when he'd finally looked, despite the fact that he was the one who she now normally made assign missions (saying something about his tactical decision-making being put to use).]

"Sakura, calm down." 

"Those are _the_ two worst words you could possibly say to someone when they're upset!" She had spun around, practically spat at him.

"You're hurting yourself," he had said. His hands were growing colder. Autonomic nervous system response. Blood was rushing to his brain, shoulders, torso. His face was growing warmer. Fight or flight.

"Oh, I'm hurt?" Sakura had waved her hands in the air dramatically. "Ino is in there right now, bleeding out, and I'm the one you're concerned about?"

"Sakura," he had said firmly.

"Don't you Sakura me right now," she had said loudly.

"You're chakra exhausted and you're going to make yourself pass out," he had said. "Sit down."

"I can't just sit down," she had said, and he had known she was close to tears from her tone. Her face was flushed pink as her hair.

"Sakura, please." The fear in his stomach was twisting, like a child twisting a piece of cloth, or a noodle-maker twisting dough into rounds.

She had sat down beside him. Tears had slowly begun to gather in her eyes but she had angrily swiped an arm over them. 

"We can't do anything right now," he had said, turning around so he was properly seated on the bench alongside her. He bent over his legs, rested his head on his hands. "We just have to wait."

"I can't believe you could sleep," she had said. Accusatory.

"We can't do anything."

"We have to do something," she had said. 

"Sakura, there's _nothing_ you can do," he had said sharply, dropping his hands and looking at her. "Sometimes you just have to trust other people to do their jobs right."

"And you show you care about her by just sleeping through it?" Sakura's voice was like a firecracker, exploding. 

"There is nothing I can do," he had ground out.

"It's your _job_ to be there for her, you're her teammate," she had said. "People who leave their teammates behind are worse than trash."

"I'm not leaving her behind," he had said, trying very hard not to clench his jaw, or his fists. "I am sitting here in the hospital waiting for the nurses to come out and report. With you."

"You were _sleeping,_" she had said. 

"I cannot do anything about Ino this exact second," he had hissed. "And neither can you, so get off your high horse." 

"High horse?" She had snorted. "Excuse me for caring enough about people to at least be conscious."

He had stood, suddenly. "I can't sit here anymore. I'm going for a smoke."

"Ino is in there _right now,_" Sakura had said, standing.

"You are very tired and very upset, and right now too exhausted to do anything," he told her sharply. "You need to be resting, not wasting your energy nagging at me."

"I am not nagging," she had hissed.

"Okay. Okay. Fine." He had held up his hands. "I give up. I'm going for a smoke. Don't wear yourself out."

[Fury, fear, concern - they had all been gradually overcome by the nicotine. The rush of calm. The feeling of watching smoke disappear in the wind, like the words he couldn't say.]

He had been outside the hospital for several minutes, maybe a half hour, when the door behind him had opened. Sakura had peeked out.

"I'm sorry," she had said, before he had even turned around. "I was being a bitch."

He'd lowered the cigarette. 

Sakura had walked slowly over, haltingly. Her leg was painful enough, apparently, to make her limp. Probably because she had opened the wound again by pacing. "I… You didn't deserve that."

He had sighed. "Probably not."

"I'm just so… Oh, god, Shikamaru, I'm so tired, and I just can't do anything," she had said, suddenly covering her face. Her back trembled, and her voice, when she had finally spoken, was watery, breaking. "Oh, god. Ino."

He'd dropped the cigarette on the ground, stepped on it, and walked over to her. Her shoulders shook, but her tears were silent. He'd pulled her close, her head against his chest, and her arms had worked their way around him. Her body had shuddered with sobs. He could smell the antiseptic scent of the hospital, clinging to her.

"She - it's all my fault," she had said, muffled by his shirt. "I couldn't do anything."

"It’s not your fault," he had said. 

"And I can't do anything now," she had said, voice suddenly breaking again. "Oh god." 

"Sometimes you just can't do anything," he had said. "It's not your fault."

She had convulsed with sobs for minutes longer. Her body was warm against his, but her tears were hot against his chest. Finally, she had sniffled, and then grown still. The wet of her tears grew colder as a breeze blew past them. He continued to hold her against him.

"I'm sorry," she had said. Her voice had been quiet, even despite being muffled by his shirt.

"I know." He had let her go slightly and she had stepped away fractionally, still looking down. 

"I just… I just don't get how you can sleep." She had wiped her eyes, looking briefly up at him.

He had sighed. "Sakura, sometimes you can't do anything else."

"I know." She had shaken her head. "Oh, god. Ino."

"It's going to be okay." He had stepped forward, slipped his hand through her hair and tilted her head up slightly to look at him. Her mouth had trembled, still on the verge of tears. "Sakura. You did everything you could."

Tears had escaped her eyes, one tracing its way to his hand. "I just…"

"You did enough."

"Okay." She had closed her eyes; he had kissed her gently. Her lips had tasted of salt.

"Okay." He had pulled her to him briefly again. 

[Ino had lived. Sakura had wept again, to see her; Shikamaru had left the room where they'd put Ino and sat on the bench and fought back tears. When Sakura had left the room she had sat beside him, interlaced her fingers with his. She'd put her head on his shoulder and he knew that, too, was an apology.]

The Nara forest was quiet, in the semi-darkness. Sakura was laughing, breathlessly, somewhere in front of him. 

"Come on, Shikamaru." He could hear her leap from one tree branch to another. "Stop playing around."

[Late night. Moonlit. She had been convinced to take a break; he had been free and had wanted her all to himself. There was nothing else that could take her attention, in the forest. Just trees and deer and cicadas in the darkness.]

He had waited silently. He would be able to tell, eventually, where she was. And then - the shadows stirred in front of him,

He'd leapt and, sure enough, he had sprung directly in front of him. She waved a hand at him, still breathy with laughter, as he steadied himself on the branch. He'd smiled at her. "Gotcha."

"Found me," she had said. 

He'd pulled her close with an arm around her waist and leaned in.

"Mm." Sakura had kissed back, and then pulled away slightly.

He hadn't been entirely willing to let her go. "I caught you."

"Mm." She had smiled slightly at him. "And I'm assuming you want there to be some kind of prize involved?"

"Take a wild guess," he'd said, brushing her hair back with a hand. 

She'd pursed her lips at him. "Hm… you get to say you beat me at shogi like seven times?"

He'd stopped teasing the lip of her collar down and looked at her, deadpan. 

She'd grinned wider. "Maybe… I promise not to bother your mother about you?"

"Not funny," he'd said, but Sakura had grinned brightly and leaned forwards. 

"Or," she had said, "Maybe I make you dinner sometime?"

He had sighed, understanding.

"Sorry, Shikamaru," she had said, mouth quirking slightly at him. She'd kissed him briefly on the lips and then pulled away. "I'm not really into it tonight. Long day at work and all."

"No, I get it." He'd brushed her collar back up into its normal standing position. "I get it."

"But we can go stargazing, right?" she had asked. "Can that be the prize?"

"Sure," he'd said. She'd slipped her hand in his, and he'd looked down at her, at her face lit just slightly by the moonlight. 

They'd climbed up the tree further through a combination of chakra and agility; so high up that when they moved the branches swayed unnervingly. Sakura had clung to his arm even though he knew she didn't need the support. Finally, they had sat and watched, his back against the trunk and her back on his stomach, her head resting on his shoulder. 

[The sky had been so black that it looked like velvet. Stars like pinpricks of light. Clichés, everywhere.]

"The light pollution here is practically nonexistent," she had said. He could feel her speech, the vibration on his collarbone.

"Yeah." He hadn't been tired, even despite the time of night and the fact that he'd just chased her through the forest (and the fact that she was significantly faster than him). He reached for the packet in his vest.

"Are you really going to smoke," she had said, having recognized the unzipping of his pocket for what it was.

"You mind?" he had said, already shaking one out of the box.

"I'm going to smell like smoke for ages," she had said, but it hadn't been a no.

The scent of nicotine, the rush, the heady calm. It was soothing. He had to turn his head to the side to puff on it, to avoid ash gathering on her. 

"Do you know the constellations?" she had asked, after several quiet seconds had passed.

"No." He had looked at the sky with her, one hand balancing the cigarette carefully over the side of the branch.

"Mm. I knew them at one point, I think." 

He'd taken another drag on his cigarette. Sakura had sighed, so heavily he could feel her body curl in on itself slightly with the noise.

"Sighing drives away happiness," he'd quoted dryly.

"It's a neurological response to stress." Sakura had shifted slightly, and her shoulder dug into his chest.

He'd shifted slightly to accommodate her. "What are you stressed about?" 

She'd sighed again. Her response, when it came, was almost embarrassed. "I don't know."

He'd snorted. 

"Oh, shut up." He could hear her roll her eyes. "Just because you don't have a care in the world…"

"I wish," he'd said.

"There's just a lot at the hospital going on," Sakura had said, "and… I don't know. Naruto needs to be babysat. Sensei needs to be babysat, too, weirdly. And Ino keeps nagging at me. I don't know. Everything."

"Exactly why you need to take more breaks," he'd said.

"They don't disappear when you take a break," Sakura had said, turning slightly so he could see her face. "You know? Those problems. Nothing stops happening when you take a break."

"You have done enough," he told her. "You know you have. And for right now, no one's looking for you at the hospital. And Ino and Naruto and whoever the hell else who's on your nerves can't find you out here."

"Yeah." She had leaned back onto him again, more hesitantly. "Okay."

"If you sigh any more, I'll have to medicate you with a cigarette yourself."

"So not healthy," she'd said, but she'd smiled slightly. He had heard it.

The moon had been full and grey, speckled like a hen's egg. The wind rustling through the branches of the trees around them. The quiet noises of the forest, rustling, the calls of owls and the crunch of leaves on the forest floor below them. He'd closed his eyes.

[Dreamed of something. He hadn't remembered it, upon awakening. Something like being pre-genin, again, talking with Choji. Ino. Weird memories, distorted by time.]

He'd awoken when Sakura had moved to get up, years of sleeping in trees on missions jolting him into immediate consciousness, almost hyper-awareness. 

"Leaving?" he'd said. She'd frozen, halfway in a squatting position, as though she'd been about to leap from the branch.

"I woke you up," she'd said, voice quiet, as though he could be coaxed back to sleep.

"You did," he'd said, tone neutral.

"Sorry," she'd said. "I just… there's something I should check on."

"Now?" he'd asked, eyebrows raised. [Bitterness. Every adult - every jonin - strove for a careful balance between work and play, but Sakura always chose the first. Always.]

"Sorry," she'd said. The moonlight was dimmer, now. He had been able to guess it was somewhere between three and five a.m. [And he had been pissed.]

"Sakura, it's in the middle of the night. Who could possibly need you right now?"

She'd stiffened. "Look, there's a patient I need to check on, okay? He has third degree burns and our second nurse is off sick -"

"He's going to live through the night," Shikamaru had said, not bothering to check his tone. "Also, third-degree burns are easily treatable with chakra care, so I have no idea why you're concerned about this."

She'd huffed. "Look, Shikamaru, I made a promise I'd check up on him, okay? I can't not do it."

He'd stood. "Fine. Fine." 

"'Fine,' what?" She'd stood, too, and the branch below them had wavered under both sudden movements. 

"Fine just means fine," he had said. "Go on. Run to your patient."

"Oh my god," Sakura had said, snorting. "I can't believe this. You're just mad because I woke you up, okay? Just - just go back to sleep and sleep it off. I'm not dealing with this right now, Nara. Save up your hissy fit for another day."

"Go, then." He'd stood, waiting, feeling the buzz of shadows around them. [An owl flew somewhere above them, its shadow passing over the tree's branches. A field mouse, scurrying away in fright.]

"Oh, don't worry. I am." She'd flickered out of sight, and the sudden force of chakra against the branch had caused it to snap, splinters of wood slicing through the air as Shikamaru found himself falling as well. 

He'd leaped to the branch just below where they'd stood seconds ago, steadying himself with a hand as Sakura's chakra signature grew faint in the distance. 

[He hadn't gone home to sleep that night. His mother had looked for him all morning and had finally found him slumped on the couch after he'd walked in the door at about eleven in the morning. When she'd seen the pine needles in his hair and jacket and began smirking and talking loudly about how she wanted grandchildren so she would be fine with less contraception in his relationship when he went out and had sex all night, he'd just left, shunshin, so quickly that he'd known his mother would be surprised.] 

"Shikamaru, there you are!" Sakura had ran up to him, barely out of breath. "You need to get to Shishou's office, now."

He'd flicked ash off his cigarette, the pack discarded in the trash beside him. "Give me a minute."

[There had been a meeting he was avoiding. Some genin had died in a mission that he and Tsunade had cleared, despite the risks. Some kind of funeral service or speech was being held. Something not worth thinking about.]

"What do you mean, a minute?" she had asked incredulously. "There are families up there you need to meet with."

He had taken another drag of his cigarette. He could almost see Sakura swell with sudden fury, the reddening of her cheeks. There was an emptiness in his chest, something that made it almost ironic, almost amusing, to see her suddenly inflate with rage.

"Stop avoiding your responsibilities," she had said loudly - so loudly that people on the street had turned to look. "Stop being a coward."

"I've always been at my best while running away," he had said. "Didn't I tell you that once?"

"Tsunade needs you in that meeting right now," she had told him. "Get over yourself and get in there."

"I'm going to go," he said. He gestured slightly with his right hand, the cigarette in it. "I had to finish this first." 

Sakura eyed the cigarette with such intensity that it looked like she was willing it to burst even further into flame. "I cannot believe this."

"Believe what," he had said. 

"That you're just - ignoring what you need to do," she had said, waving her hand as though to encompass the situation.

"The genin died," he had said flatly. "And now there's nothing we can do about it. Okay? Five minutes doesn't matter to them anymore."

"I can't believe you can say something like that. I cannot believe that you're - you're saying this like they're just - just shogi pieces," she had said. Her hands had bunched into fists so tight he could almost hear the leather gloves she wore creak. "Do you think this just some kind of elaborate shogi game you get to play around on the people to you, when you assign missions?"

"I consider the possibilities and I make the best decision I could have possibly made with the information I have," he said, not able to stop his voice from raising in volume slightly. "That's my job. My _responsibility._"

"You sent them there knowing they would die," she said. "Didn't you. That's why you're out here, avoiding this."

The panic he'd known would be rising in him had been entirely dulled by the pack of cigarettes he was almost done working his way through. "You decide who lives and dies in the hospital, Sakura. Every ninja has trade-offs they make. This is textbook ninja code."

"And now," she had said, completely ignoring him, "and now you're just ignoring your responsibilities! You're being such a damn _coward._"

"Sure." He hadn't bothered to argue, had thrown the cigarette on the side of the street and let the thin wisp of smoke rise between them. 

"Those parents, Shikamaru." She had continued to glare at him. "You owe it to them to show up."

"They knew their children could and probably would die for the village," he told her sharply. "And now they have."

He had barely finished speaking before Sakura punched him in the jaw. He felt the joint buckle under the weight, felt it dislocate with a snap and piercing pain. He had avoided his initial instinct to touch the wound and looked back at her. Her chest was heaving, her cheeks flushed dark.

"How dare you," she had said. "I thought you were trying to protect Asuma's child. And these kids are barely older."

Shikamaru hadn't moved, but had felt the charge of chakra more acutely as it coursed through him - through his body, through the shadows that the walls around them cast on the ground. Anger - purely anger. It wasn't a particularly common emotion, for him. But he didn't bother to attempt to speak. A dislocated jaw meant speech wasn't going to be understandable.

What felt like ten minutes had passed, him just staring back at her. And then Sakura's shoulders had drooped. She had stepped forward and with a swipe of chakra and a crunch of bone, had reset his jaw. He hadn't tried to speak. Her hands on his were warm with the strange buzz of chakra, but when the chakra was gone and her fingers rested on his face, they were cold. Her eyes, on his, were as well.

"You should go," she had said, taking a step back, lowering her hand from his face. 

He had stepped forward and pulled himself away from the situation, into the Hokage's office, leaving only a leaf behind.

He'd knocked on her door the next day. 

"I don't want to talk to you." Her voice, through the closed door. 

[He hadn't slept. The meeting had been mostly weeping parents and Tsunade shooting him alternatingly angry and interested looks because he was both late and sporting a magnificently developing bruise along his jaw. The night had been reliving Sakura's tears and shouting.]

"I'm leaving tomorrow for a week-long mission," he had said. "It's either now or a week from now."

There had been silence, so long Shikamaru had wondered if she really was going to wait a week to talk to him again. And then the door opened. 

Sakura had looked back up at him, her expression almost resentful. Her eyes had rested on the steadily-darkening bruise for a second. "I bet Shishou knew why you got that, huh."

"Probably." He had waited for her to move, but Sakura had just stood in the doorway, eyeing him. "Am I being let inside or are we going to air out your apartment?"

She had grimaced and walked away, leaving the door open. Shikamaru had walked inside, shutting it carefully behind him. There were a series of papers on the table that she cleared away as he walked in; she didn't bother to turn around. He took a seat at her table anyways.

"You better have a reason for coming," she had told him flatly. "I didn't let you in to hang out with you."

"I got angry," he had said to her back, "and I wanted to apologize. You know I cared that those kids died. No one wants to go to that kind of meeting."

"But that doesn't change, Shikamaru, that it's your _duty_ to go," Sakura had ground out, suddenly turning around. "You can't just avoid your duty."

He had leaned backwards, tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. The tiles on the ceiling were off-white, flecked with some kind of paint. Possibly dried blood. "I know."

"And I can't be the person to tell you that!" She had been shuffling the papers so roughly that he could almost hear them giving her a paper cut. "You're a jonin. You're - you're an adult."

"I know." He had avoided the urge to smoke. [There had been a pack in his vest that he had impulse-bought on the way over. But a sure-fire way to make Sakura angrier was to smoke.]

"Well then, do something about it," she had said sharply. 

"About what?" He'd looked at her. "Sakura, I can't just make myself want to do things like this."

"No one is asking you to _want_ to do things like send genin on missions where they'll die."

"We didn't _know_ they were going to die, Sakura," he had interjected. "I think you know me well enough now that you wouldn't have assumed we would send them to die pointlessly."

Sakura had dropped the papers on the desk and walked over to the chair opposite him, leaning on its back but not sitting down. "I didn’t assume that."

"You did." 

Sakura had looked away and flushed. "Fine. Yes. I was pissed off and I said some things I didn't mean."

"Like the part about Asuma's child." Even saying it had made him smart with anger.

She had visibly grimaced. "Fine. Yes. I am well aware I could have handled it better. I… also shouldn't have punched you. But you also deserved it."

He had looked at the table, the little chips and flecks in it. The ringed water stain that had probably been a mug of tea, forgotten; the speckling of dust on the parts of the table that Sakura hadn't strewn papers across.

"Tsunade gives me that life or death power over all the mission rosters, subject to her approval. Who goes where. Do we have enough resources for this. Who is most likely to get this done." He had looked at her. "Every day people get injured because of my decisions. People die."

"I know." Sakura had nodded slowly. 

He had looked away. "Do you think I don't regret those genin, their deaths?" he had asked.

Sakura had looked up at him; he could feel her gaze. The table was solid wood between them; his eyes traced the tiny crack in it before him instead of her face. 

"Do you think, every time some chunin is sent to the hospital, I don't regret it? Every time Ino's family gets requests for funeral flowers, I'm the one giving them business."

"Shikamaru," she had said, softly.

"Do you think I'm not terrified of making the wrong decisions?" 

The memorial stone he'd seen Kakashi haunting one too many times now haunted him. He knew too many people chiseled into it, now, and now the names that were written into it - like those three genin - could be his responsibility.

She hadn't said anything in response, and for a moment the kitchen was silent. The quiet buzz of her air-conditioning unit was the only noise.

"It's hard. But it's our duty to make those decisions and own up to them, and I know you can do that, Shikamaru," she had said, her voice quiet but firm. "I know you have done it. You can and you do take responsibility for what you do. And people respect you for it. So why…"

She had trailed off. The clock, ticking above the kitchen counter, had been tinny and loud in the silence.

"Because you were right." He had shut his eyes.

"What?" 

He had looked at her. "You know what I wish? That I was just born as some nameless civilian. I would wake up and go to some meaningless laborer's job, or be a shopkeeper, or take over the fucking family business, and then I'd grow old and grey and die."

"But you weren't," she had said.

"Of course I wasn't." He had shot her a look. "I never wanted any of this, Sakura."

"But you have it," she had said, her gaze firm on his. "Unfortunately, we don't pick our lives. But we choose what we do with them."

"I don't want the motivational speech today," he had said flatly.

"It's your duty, Shikamaru," she had said. "You're a jonin. And Tsunade wants to make you the jonin commander one day. You're strong, you're a certified genius, you've made strategies that have saved us over and over, you've beaten members of the Akatsuki - you're entirely qualified."

[Responsibility, swinging before him. Like golden cuffs, chained together. Respect and dignity, shimmering like gold, coupled with crushing fears and unchanging obligations.]

"I do my job, Sakura," he had said. "Can't you just handle that sometimes I don't want to?"

She had sighed, deeply, and ran her hands through her hair, leaving it more tangled than before. "I get that it's not a fun job, Shikamaru. And of course I don't - I mean, of course you don't want to do it, and I understand that. It's just - you can't deal with your problems by running away from them."

He'd sat there, feeling the weight of his cigarettes in his pocket. 

"And you do - you just run away," she had said, emphatically. 

"I know."

"And… I know everyone does it to some extent," Sakura had continued. "I mean, Sensei has his stupid Icha-Icha books and - and some people just train for ages, and - and Shishou drinks, and… And I work, you know."

"So you do realize that," he had said. 

"What?" she had asked.

"That work, for you, is more than work." He had looked at her. "Sakura, you can't expect me to feel the same way about work as you do."

"I don't expect you to work all the time," she had said, emphatically. "It's the running away."

"I was going to go to that meeting, Sakura," he had said. "I bet Tsunade was late, too, drinking sake before she showed up."

"Don't talk about Shishou like that," she had said.

"Well, is it too much to ask you not to talk about me like that, then?" he had said, sharper than he intended.

Sakura had made a loud, frustrated groan. "I just - I expected better of you, okay, Shikamaru?"

The disappointment, finally voiced, had stung more than her anger. The shadows in the room came in to clarity, his chakra buzzing somewhere deep in his sternum.

[Even in his anger, he'd seen the range of options. Rage: "How the hell do you expect me to act exactly like you do?" Betrayal: "Maybe you should have trusted me to do my job instead of micromanaging me!" Logic: "How can you expect me to be any better than anyone else under extreme stress?" Exhaustion: "I just can't do this anymore, Sakura. I just can't."]

In the end, he hadn't opened his mouth. He'd shut his eyes and focused on the shadows. The curve of the shadow of her calf. The table. The plant, dying, on her windowsill, silhouetted on the floor. The shadows in her room, unlit. 

"I just… the running away, Shikamaru. It’s not healthy."

He'd finally looked up at her. Sakura's face, too, was tired. Dark circles. Pale. "I don't cope with things the way you do, Sakura. But I'd bet that running away by working yourself to the ground isn't particularly healthy, either."

She'd huffed out a breath. "At least I try to be productive."

"Sakura," he had said, his voice a warning.

"Fine!" She had stood, so suddenly her chair almost tipped over from the force of the motion. "Fine. Fine. I can't deal with this right now."

"Fine," he had said, standing up as well. "Go work yourself into the ground. Enjoy your productivity."

"Just leave." She had turned around and stalked into her kitchen until she was directly in front of her kitchen counter. She'd opened the cabinet above her and began taking out a plate and cup, putting each on the counter with such force that he could almost see them crack.

"Fine." He had turned and walked out her door. Even slamming the door shut behind him hadn't helped the fury, the crackling sense of the shadows rustling around him.

He'd seen it seconds before Sakura. 

[In a battle, the sedate pace of steady moves in shogi (three minutes, ten minutes a turn) became seconds. Every turn was a second, or milliseconds. He had seen the possibilities seconds before she had, and it made the difference.]

Their opponent had made the motion to shunshin. Shikamaru could tell by the set of the man's feet that he was aiming for Sakura. 

[It was a mission that did it. Tsunade had told him they needed him and Sakura, tactical smarts and ambush capabilities, to take out a missing-nin somewhere in Kumo. He'd fought the Hokage about the assignment of the two of them, together, but had been overridden. The first words that he and Sakura had spoken to each other since their fight were something about the route to get to Kumo, so cold that he could practically taste the ice on her lips.]

Shikamaru had moved along with the man, pulling himself into shunshin.

[A fight, their opponent's suddenly-revealed additional techniques, an unexpected second missing-nin joining in: all things that were fairly standard. What was not standard was Sakura's flagging chakra exhaustion from the battle with the first missing-nin, and Shikamaru's realization that in order to kill the unexpected second player in the game, he'd have to strangle him from a close distance. Thus, the shunshin teleport directly in front of the man's sword, strangulation completed, and - ]

Pain. Spurting through him. The sword. He had seen it coming, of course. [But the better part of shogi and the better part of battle strategies was always sacrificial decision-making. Asuma, holding up a pawn and giving him scenarios. Games. Logic puzzles. What goes where. Do we have enough resources for this. Who is most likely to get this done. Who has to die for the king to succeed.]

Pain running through him, like the blood churning from him, like he had turned a valve. He had felt himself hit the ground, his skull rattle, his eyes blur. The ground had trembled beneath him. Or it could have just been him, shaking. 

Blood loss. He knew the symptoms. Had memorized them. Tourniquets. Should cut off blood flow. Raise above the heart. Aorta. Veins went one way and arteries went the other. Lumbar plexus. Pieces of knowledge floating before him that he couldn't put together. 

[Knowledge. Like nights in the libraries with Sakura. Reading things. Things. Books. Her finger pointing to a page. The musty smell. The churn of something in his gut. Painful.]

He'd briefly seen green.

Green like the hills or the valleys. Like the trees and their branches and the way Sakura's eyes looked like the light shining through the leaves. Dappling of sunlight on green. 

"You’re going to be okay." He knew the voice. Sakura had said it, and maybe said something else. Her hands had been flapping like birds above him, fluttering, the light beating down on him making them look all the more feathery and confused. 

"Right," he had said. Or maybe thought. He had thought his mouth had moved.

"You’re going to be fine," she had said. His vision was misting at the edges. Or fuzzing out. Like wool or like cotton, like clouds. Or static. He felt his head fall to the side and he jolted, realizing he hadn't remembered closing his eyes.

Green like mist on the trees he'd grown up seeing. When his mother had tried to find him to make him work, or study for his exams, he had climbed trees instead, walking all the way up them and perching on a branch, watching the mists roll in over the smaller trees below him during rainy season. It was chakra, the green mist. He could feel the chakra, he knew it was Sakura, but green mists. And trees and forests and deer and

home.

[He had heard voices. Something like voices.]

Her hand had been in his when he'd blinked back into consciousness. 

White ceiling above him, with only a light fixture in the center of it. Light on, fluorescent, gaudy. Pain across his abdomen. He'd sat there, staring at the ceiling, for several minutes (or what felt like it). It was clearly the hospital, clearly in Konoha, and he was clearly alive. And there was pressure of a hand in his. 

When he'd finally forced his head to the side to look beside him: Pink hair, sprawled out, her face turned towards his but blank with sleep. [Her chakra. Green mist. Fragmented memories. His head still rung with them.]

Testing, he'd lightly tightened his grip on her hand. She had jolted upright. Her eyes met his.

"Oh," she had said, or something like that, something on the almost-cusp of tears, and then she'd started crying. Let go of his hand and put her head on the edge of his bed as her shoulders shook.

"Don't cry," he'd said, almost rote. The situation was so bizarre, somehow, in the same way that looking back at a dream in the daylight is. He was alive in a hospital bed. Himself, alive.

"You idiot." She had suddenly looked up, tears still on her face, red-rimmed eyes. "I cannot believe you fucking did that."

"Good morning, Sakura," he had said.

"It's evening," she had said, her glare fading into muted chagrin. She'd looked to the side, ducking her head slightly. "Sorry."

"How long have I been out?" 

"Only about a day or so." She'd carefully put her hand back on top of his, resting on the edge of the bed. [The hand on his was… interesting. Difficult. They hadn't broken up, but they hadn't resolved anything. It was too much to think about, right now.] 

"Mm." He had rested his head back on the pillow behind him, felt his abdomen twinge painfully at that small motion. "I guess it's thanks to you I'm alive."

"I wasn't going to let you die," she had said, voice quiet. Her eyes, when he'd turned his head to look at her, were on their hands. "You know that what you did was stupid, though."

"It was the only way to finish the mission," he had told her. "We were exhausted. Guy was a tricky bastard. Could've both died."

"Could have isn't good enough for a move like that." He could feel the press of her stare like it was a hand pushing him down into the bed. "You could have died."

"You could have died," he had said. "If I hadn't done that. We both could have."

"That's - that's just stupid." She had frowned at him. "I just - I can't believe you jumped in front of his sword."

"Logic?" he had asked. "Logic is stupid, Sakura?"

"You could have died," she had said, suddenly standing up and pacing around the room. "And you knew that - that's what gets me. I know you're smart enough to know that."

"I don't stand behind a lot of stuff I've done," he had said, watching her walk, her fingers flex. "But I do stand behind that decision."

"I'm not losing you like that," she had said. "And if you ever do that again I will bring you back to life and kill you myself."

"Sounds like a waste of chakra," he had told her. 

She had frowned at him. "I don't get it, Nara, I really don't. You wake up from being unconscious and you make jokes about how I should've let you die."

"Some call it a coping mechanism," he had said, tipping his head back to close his eyes.

"You're…" Her voice had trailed off. "Oh, Shikamaru. What are we going to do."

He'd known without opening his eyes that she wasn't referring to his poor defense mechanisms. "You saved my life, I saved yours. No debts between us."

"Not about that," she had said. 

He'd made the effort to look up at her. In that blue-tinged fluorescent light - even then, even with teary eyes and everything - she was still - still so… her. 

[He'd known her since they were children. She'd barely looked at him, once, but now he knew the ways she could look at him. How her mind worked. Her thoughts and actions and perspectives on everything from snacks to shuriken sharpening to alcohol to training to sex to books to anyone they'd ever met. Everything. And somehow that familiarity was both beautiful and sad - that closeness, and the way she now stood at the foot of his hospital bed, guarded and upset.]

"Look, Sakura," he had said. Like a weight on his sternum, the thoughts and words pressed down on him, necessary to say but difficult to get out. "If you can't deal with the way I deal with things, I get it. We've had a good run of it and… I get it. But if you want to try, we can."

"I… I don't want to break up," she had said, voice suddenly cracking. She'd covered her face. "Oh, god, Shikamaru. I'm sorry. Is this just a mess? Is it just… is it too much?"

He'd closed his eyes. "I don't know."

"I cried - all the past few hours." Her voice had been watery. "Shikamaru, I just don't know what the right decision is."

"I don't either." When he'd opened his eyes, the ceiling was still the same horrible white, blank and emotionless. He could hear her sniffle, the rustle of cloth as she wiped her eyes. "I don't know, either, Sakura."

She'd walked over to him, sat back down in the chair beside him. Tears ran slow rivulets down her face. He'd had to look away, again. The weight on his chest had been painful, and not just from the mostly-healed wound through his stomach. 

At least a minute had passed. Words had ceased to come to him. He'd turned his hand beside her palm up, and watched as her fingers hesitantly laced their way through his. The weight was comfortable. Normal. More time, silent save only for the occasional drop of a tear onto Sakura's lap, had passed. 

Finally, she had spoken. "Is it enough?" she had asked, her voice small. 

He had understood. Because she hadn't been talking about the hand-holding, or the conversation, or… anything else. Because he knew her. [He had since childhood.]

"It's enough, Sakura. If it's enough for us, it's enough."

"Yeah." She had pulled her hand from his and covered her face, resting her elbows on the side of the bed. Her shoulders had shook with a fresh round of quiet tears. Her voice had been shaking. "I know."

He'd raised his hand and rested it on her head, ran his fingers through her hair. "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is into the Enneagram, this fic made me put a lot of time into considering what type they are; my best guess is that Shikamaru is a 6w5 and Sakura is a 1w2. Food for thought/debate (I would love to discuss if you have thoughts :) ).
> 
> Also, if anyone has any questions about the fic, I would love to discuss them. I have like a three paragraph discussion of why this fic went the way it did that was originally intended to go here, but I decided not to bore any of you with it unless prompted to, lol.


End file.
